


hungry

by FeverAndRemedy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), get a job own a business bitch suck a dick, obviously post timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-30 18:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeverAndRemedy/pseuds/FeverAndRemedy
Summary: “Well, who’s being reckless now?”Ah. Those are the words. Five words that end his life.One day, he’s going to look back on this and remember those words - because what happens next pulls every witty thought from Sylvain’s brain faster than he can process.





	hungry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpiceHya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiceHya/gifts).

> this is the first time I've ever published any NSFW work. I can't believe FE3H is what broke the dam for me.  
but this is also inspired by a tweet Hya made about Felix and Sylvain! I said I would write it and I am nothing if not a man of my word. enjoy.

Sylvain needs fresh air. His quarters are starting to feel stuffy, so he gets up and braves the briskness of the night. It must be twilight… or at least he thinks that’s what it’s called. Not yet dark, but the skyline of the hills and trees have long since swallowed the shape of the sun. Something in between, where the stars have yet to appear, and the sky forms a pale gradient of pink and blue. His feet seem to carry him, he walks without thinking.

At least the air is nice. He stretches his arms as he walks, pulling his hands behind his back because god, his shoulders are tight. Everything is tight, but hey, throwing a lance around for hours because your life depends on it will do that to a guy.

He doesn’t realize he’s been walking towards the training pit until he’s standing in it and then he just feels like a bit of an idiot. Why couldn’t his restless legs have taken him somewhere far more productive? Like the sauna? Or the wine cellar?

No, training grounds instead, it seems. He kicks the sand idly, turning about and getting ready to get the hell out of dodge until it strikes him. The strangeness of how it is when it’s empty. Completely silent except for -

The sound of - liquid? A sloshing sound, followed by the faint sound of glass, and who the _hell… _

Sylvain fumbles around the dimness of the area, the adjacent library just dark shapes in the dying light. Just his luck, it’s empty. So the place is haunted as shit after all. He can’t say he’s surprised. He turns around and heads into the hall and very gracefully and unceremoniously slams into none other than Felix Fraldarius. His best friend (who he’s also had a crush on for Goddess knows how long).

_Smash!_ The sound of glass breaking. Shit.

Shaking his head, Sylvain hurries back a few steps.

“My, my, training at this hour?” he starts.

“You need to get some new material, Sylvain,” Felix says, but there’s something in his voice. His words don’t come out quite right. “M’getting tired of hearing the same jokes again and again.”

Sylvain’s going to say something real funny. Probably something witty and mildly patronizing - it’s his nature and you’d sooner divert a river from its course than deny Sylvain his headassery. But he doesn’t get to do that because he sees Felix’s face and -

Felix looks messy. Like, sloppy.

The fair skin is flushed, mostly the slopes of his cheeks, a burning pink that creeps up to his ears. Sylvain can tell just by listening that Felix’s breathing is uneven. Dazed eyes are focused on the mess on the floor where a pile of broken glass lays on the ground surrounded by a darkened stain. No fucking way. No way.

It smells, and strong. He doesn’t need Felix to be close to him to smell the alcohol on his breath, but Felix _is_ close.

Sylvain can’t believe his eyes. For all that Felix talks about duty and training and not wasting time and - he can’t help the shit-eating grin that curves the corners of his mouth. He lifts a brow, arms crossing over his own chest.

“Not now, Sylvain…” Felix grinds out. The words are quiet - they practically die on the air on the way to Sylvain’s ears.

“Well, who’s being reckless now?” Ah. Those are the words. Five words that end his life. One day, he’s going to look back on this and remember those words - because what happens next pulls every witty thought from Sylvain’s brain faster than he can process.

Felix is smaller in stature, sure, but he fucking surges forwards, hands pressing against Sylvain’s chest, and pushes him. Sylvain’s feet instinctively push back, but Felix is far too close and damn, Sylvain can _feel_ the lack of space between them. There’s nothing, Felix is practically pushing his chest against Sylvain’s, quick and aggressive movements that route Sylvain out of the hall and against the wall of the little library room. He lets out a breathless “_oof_” as his back slams into the shelf.

Sylvain’s brain lags a few seconds behind because he can’t stop thinking about how he can feel the heat pulsing off of Felix’s flushed face. His ears are so red like Sylvain has never seen them before in his life.

He’s gonna say something funny again. Because god damn it, he’s stupid and his brain is short-circuiting and he doesn’t know how to process how messy his childhood best friend looks. Because it’s not just that. There’s something else. In the dark of the hall, it was hard to see. But in the library’s candlelight he can see it - this _hunger_ in Felix’s eyes. He suddenly feels like prey, becoming acutely aware of the way his heart stutters in his chest.

“Did… did something happen?” Goddess, he sounds stupid.

“Not yet,” Felix says.

Fuck. Is he getting hard? Well, there goes whatever joke he was about to make.

It dies on his tongue, not because the words get caught - rather, they get swallowed, because Felix has his mouth on Sylvain’s mouth and every coherent thought in Sylvain’s mind gets absolutely decimated. It’s warm and wet and tastes like alcohol and Felix’s tongue is already in his mouth and Sylvain swears he can feel both their heartbeats from where Felix has his chest pressed against him.

Felix parts from him briefly, just enough for him to say, “Sylvain...” He sounds like he might cry.

Then he puts his mouth against Sylvain’s again and Sylvain is helpless to fight against that fire. His mind is empty; in that moment there is nothing but Felix’s lips slotting feverishly against Sylvain’s and the tickle against his cheek where Felix’s eyelashes flutter.

Sylvain is pinned against the bookshelf so there’s little room for maneuvering. Yet he still feels as though he needs to ground himself in some way, find something real to convince him that he’s not dreaming and that his best friend is actually making out with him. His hands stall for a moment, palms pressed against the shelf behind him. He doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t have the capacity to think about it, but he moves his hands forwards, brings them to rest on Felix’s hips.

He’s almost afraid, like Felix would burn him if he touched him, like this is just a dream and as soon as he touches Felix, the illusion is going to break.

Instead, Felix’s hands move down and grasp Sylvain’s wrists. He pushes them against the shelf again, and Sylvain feels a shudder run down his spine.

Felix finally parts from Sylvain’s lips. His mind is still hazy, it takes him a second to understand what Felix is doing when he crouches down in front of Sylvain on his knees.

On his fucking. _Knees._

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on - shit,” Sylvain stammers. He can try to move away but there’s nowhere to go, if only Felix hadn’t fucking _pounced_ on him like a _hungry animal._

He can feel his entire body heat up. If there’s one thing he isn’t prepared to see tonight, it’s Felix desperately fumbling with the front of Sylvain’s pants like his life depends on it, like he needs it.

Felix looks up at him and his lips glints with spit from Sylvain’s tongue and Sylvain can feel his dick twitch. Felix’s eyes are lidded and hazy, he’s definitely still drunk, and fuck - Sylvain _feels_ drunk. But he’s sober enough to know that this is where the line is.

Sylvain wants it - fuck, Felix looks so good, and he’s so hard. Torture. This is torture. He’s died and his sins have all caught up with him and he’s in Hell now and the Goddess won’t save him. Because if they go any further, that will be it. There will be pre-tonight Sylvain and Felix. And post-tonight Sylvain and Felix and they will be two different sets of people with a different relationship with one another. Sylvain’s mind can’t even keep up with the fact that Felix just kissed him. They’re best friends and they’ve had this weird something for so long. Sylvain would be lying if he said he hadn’t ever thought about it: that he hadn’t woken up sweating and dripping through his pants from dreaming of Felix’s lithe and muscled body beneath him. Because well, he has. That has happened to him. Multiple times.

Felix takes Sylvain’s silence as encouragement and dips his head down, exhaling a hot breath against Sylvain’s crotch.

“Felix, wait-”

“Just let me do this.”

Oh. Felix - wants to do this?

Sylvain’s head slams back with a thunk against the books behind him and the realization that Felix might _want_ things to change - willingly - is more painful and exciting than the dull ache where he hit his head.

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathes quietly. An electric spark tears down his back when he feels the soft tips of Felix’s fingers against his abdomen, tracing down to his waistband.

Felix groans when he pulls Sylvain’s cock free, that hunger penetrating the faded, dizzy look in his eyes. The sound of that groan alone has Sylvain harder than he’s ever been, almost painfully so.

There’s a voice in his head saying _wait! Stop him! It’s not real! Your best friend is going to suck your dick and then he’s going to immediately kill you on the spot!_

But if there’s something Felix has been excelling at tonight, it’s robbing Sylvain of the ability to speak. Maybe that’s what this is about - one final act to shut Sylvain up once and for all.

Sylvain realizes he’s shaking by the time Felix wraps deft fingers around his cock. He didn’t notice his eyes are squeezed shut. He opens them and looks down, and Felix is looking up at him with these _eyes_ that destroy Sylvain’s entire world. Sylvain is desperate to protest.

“Felix… Felix…” is all that comes out of his mouth as Felix strokes him at an agonizingly slow pace.

Felix maintains eye contact with him when he lowers his head and the hot pad of his tongue licks an experimental path up the underside of Sylvain’s cock. The sensation has Sylvain immediately clenching his jaw, lips pulling back as he releases a hiss. Goddess, even the muscles in the small of his back are tight with anticipation.

Maybe there’s still time to convince Felix he should stop -

Felix opens his mouth and in one sure plunge, takes Sylvain’s cock to the back of his throat.

Fuck. Holy fuck. He shouldn’t be so good at that, how did he do that. Sylvain’s head slams against the bookshelf and he can’t help the groan that punches out of his chest.

Felix draws back.

“Not s’loud.”

He takes Sylvain into his mouth again, but slowly this time, his tongue pushing against the underside of Sylvain’s cock so the tip brushes against the bumps of his upper palate.

Sylvain puts both of his hands over his own mouth to stifle the absolutely wrecked moan that gets ripped from him. It happens by force, he can’t even control it. His mind is always running at a mile a minute and it feels so good to just - surrender. He thinks he feels Felix’s lips smile around him.

Felix begins moving and it’s all Sylvain can do not to react, not to buck up into the tight wet heat of Felix’s mouth. _You’re good, you’re way too good, Goddess fuck, oh fuck._

Sylvain doesn’t realize he’s whispering it aloud against the skin of his palm but Felix must hear it because he makes this self-satisfied moan and the vibration of it makes Sylvain arch against the bookshelf.

Felix’s tongue is hot and slick. He runs it up along Sylvain’s cock before taking the whole length of it back into his mouth, and when he hollows his cheeks just a little - it applies just the right amount of pressure, making Sylvain gasp.

He doesn’t mean to, but his hips jerk forwards further into Felix’s throat, and he can feel his tip hit the back, right against the wet muscle there.

Just a moment ago, Sylvain was going to stop Felix. Goddess, he was going to make him stop. He knew Felix. This had the potential to fuck everything up between them, regardless of their feelings for each other beforehand. But now - not now. Now Sylvain wants to fuck Felix’s mouth hard. He wants to surrender to that wanton tongue, wants Felix to reach into him and rip every buried confession right out of him.

Felix seems to anticipate this. He presses his thumbs harshly into Sylvain’s skin and pushes Sylvain’s hips against the bookshelf, just. Holding him there. A high-pitched hum catches in Sylvain’s throat - he his has his teeth clenched, mouth closed and trapping the sound so it doesn’t escape him.

Sylvain’s hands move from his covering his mouth to the shelf, the back of his palms pushed there, helping to support him. His knees are like jelly, and he’s been breathing so shallow that there’s this numb buzzing sensation spreading through his chest and down his arms, into his fingertips, the kind of fuzzy feeling that reminds him of a limb falling asleep.

Still holding Sylvain’s hips in place, Felix angles his head and pops his mouth off with an obscene sound, moving his tongue to lavish his attention on the tip. Sylvain’s cock is leaking now, and he can feel his eyes widen as he watches the flat of Felix’s tongue press against the wet tip. Felix drags his tongue painfully over the tip. The precum gathers in a line across it, and Sylvain can watch it happen because Felix keeps his tongue out, his spit gathering at his lower lip.

“Holy shit,” Sylvain’s voice is high and breathy and he can barely recognize it from himself.

Felix pulls away again, closing his mouth and fucking _swallowing._ Sylvain’s knuckles turn white. He watches, enraptured, as Felix lifts a hand off his hip and tucks a loose lock of dark hair behind his own ear. Felix looks up and they make eye contact.

It’s unreal. After years of Sylvain teasing him, Felix has finally decided to get back at him.

“What is it that you want?” Felix whispers in the darkness. “Tell me.”

It spills from Sylvain all at once, a rush of words. He feels needy and high and ridiculous like a fucking virgin, but he can’t help it, his head is fucking spinning. He needs release, he needs something. His cock is so hard and the air is so cold against his skin that it amplifies every single nerve in his body.

“Please- Felix, please, I need it, fuck, I need to- I can’t, fuck… I’m gonna-”

And then Felix takes his hands off of Sylvain’s hips, finally releasing his grasp, and instead grabs one of Sylvain’s hands and places it on the back of his neck.

Felix opens his mouth, his tongue hanging slightly over his wet lips. He looks up at Sylvain, eyes blown and hazy and daring him to do it.

Sylvain has been a coiled spring ever since Felix kissed him and now he’s about to snap. His hand grips the back of Felix’s neck and he pulls Felix’s head forwards onto his cock, hips bucking up.

Felix’s eyes screw shut, but he takes it, and Sylvain can feel him trying to moan, but the way Sylvain is fucking his mouth is unrelenting. Sylvain’s breath hitches.

He looks down and watches the length of his cock disappear into Felix’s mouth over and over and over again and there’s a fire banking inside of him. All of a sudden, Sylvain’s mind is white and everything is too hot but he can’t stop and he doesn’t even realize his fingers are curling into Felix’s hair.

He comes like that, releasing down his best friend’s throat.

It’s over, he thinks. It was too much. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and it will have been worth it.

And then Felix swallows around Sylvain’s cock. He breaks off then with a gag, coughing so loudly Sylvain is sure someone somewhere can hear it but he’s too in fucking awe to care.

Sylvain collapses onto his knees and takes Felix by the shoulders. He puts his face into Felix’s neck and just starts talking, whispering, but saying it. Saying all the things he didn’t think he could say, saying that he’s always wanted him, apologizing, and then saying it again. Felix is quiet, but Sylvain can’t bring himself to part from the warmth of Felix’s neck to look him in the eyes.

“Are you… okay?”

“M’fine. Are you?”

“What, yeah, no. I’m. I’m okay. Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh. Where did you learn to, uh. To do that?”

Felix gives his signature tch.

“Just put your dick back in your pants, Sylvain.”

Felix gets up and takes down his hair, then starts retying it as he walks away and it’s the sexiest thing Sylvain has ever seen.

“Where are you going?” Sylvain asks, scrambling to do his belt.

“Come on,” is all Felix says. “Your turn. If you want.”

Sylvain gets up and runs after him.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first FE3H work but I plan on writing much more in the future! let me know if you guys are into this sort of thing. I can't say I'm used to writing NSFW, but this definitely helped break up some writer's block!


End file.
